Chapter 5
1116 Words
Angel POV
“You’re late.”
Bradely’s voice cuts through the office before I even lift my head, calm, controlled, dangerous in the way only he can be.
“I’m not,” I say, checking my watch like I don’t already know the time. “It’s 8:57.”
He doesn’t respond immediately. I can feel his eyes on me, steady and assessing, like he’s weighing something he doesn’t want to admit he’s already decided.
“You’re usually here by 8:40,” he finally says.
I swallow. “Traffic.” A lie, thin one, But he lets it go.
For now.
He turns back to the glass wall overlooking the city, hands in his pockets. From behind, he looks exactly the same. Broad shoulders, sharp posture. The man who once whispered my name like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world.
Now he says it like this.
“Angel,” he says, clipped, professional. “Close the door.”
I do, softly just as I always close it when we are together. The moment it shuts, the air changes. It always does because the room remembers something we refuse to name.
“You cancelled my ten o’clock,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Without asking.”
“Yes, i did” He turns slowly, one eyebrow lifting. “You don’t usually make executive decisions for me.”
I meet his gaze, neutral, polite, trained, because indeed i am trained “You asked me last week to filter nonessential meetings. The board meeting tonight takes priority.”
A pause.
Then, “You remembered that?”
I nod. “It’s my job.” His jaw tightens, just a fraction. But I see it. I always see it.
“Sit,” he says. I hesitate for half a second before lowering myself into the chair opposite his desk.
He doesn’t sit.
He circles. “You’ve been distracted lately,” Bradleysays.
“I haven’t.”
“You have.”
“Then I apologize.”
“That’s not an answer.” I fold my hands in my lap, fingers interlocking to keep them from trembling. “If I’ve made a mistake, point it out. I’ll fix it.”
He stops in front of me, too close. I can smell his cologne, the same one. He never changed it. Maybe because he doesn’t remember why he chose it in the first place.
“You flinched yesterday,” he says quietly. I look up. “When?”
“When Kathie touched your arm.”
My chest tightens.
“It startled me,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting it.”
His eyes darken. “You don’t like my wife.” The word lands like a slap.
“I respect her,” I reply carefully.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I hold his gaze. “My feelings are irrelevant, and my private life shouldn’t be your concern” He leans forward, palms braced on the desk, caging me in.
“I think they matter more than you’re admitting.” My heart pounds, loud enough that I’m sure he can hear it.
“Bradely,” I say, steadying my voice, “if there’s a concern about my performance...”
“This isn’t about your performance.” Silence stretches between us, thick, loaded. Then he straightens abruptly, running a hand through his hair like he’s frustrated with himself.
“You can go,” he says. I stand immediately, too quickly.
“As for the board meeting,” he adds, “you’ll be there.”
“I usually don’t attend”
“I want you there.”
I hesitate. “Kathie will be there”
“I know.”
Something sharp flashes in his eyes. I don’t know if it’s determination or defiance.
“Prepare the files,” he says. “Personally.”
“Yes, sir.” I turn to leave.
“Angel.” My hand pauses on the door.
“Have we met before?” he asks. The world tilts.
I force myself to breathe, slowly, evenly.
“No,” I say, without turning around. “Why?”
“Sometimes,” he says, quieter now, “it feels like I’m remembering you wrong.” I open the door and walk out before he can see my face fall apart.
The boardroom is cold, it has always been, long table, sharp edges. Designed to make people feel small. Kathie is already there when I arrive, seated beside Bradely, her hand resting possessively on his arm.
She looks up and smiles. “Angel,” she says warmly, too warmly. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” I reply, placing the folders neatly on the table.
Bradleydoesn’t look at me, but Kathie does. The meeting starts, numbers, projections, voices overlapping. I focus on my notes, on breathing, on not noticing the way Bradleyleans toward me every time he needs a document, instinctive, unconscious.
Kathie notices, She always does. During a break, she rises and walks around the table, heels clicking. She stops beside me.
“You’re very efficient,” she says softly. “Bradleyspeaks highly of you.”
“That’s kind of him,” I reply.
She tilts her head. “He trusts you.”
“Well, I guess.”
“Do you know,” she continues, lowering her voice, “trust is very intimate?”
I stiffen.
“He doesn’t trust easily,” she adds. “Especially women.” Bradleyclears his throat from across the room. “Kathie.”
She smiles at him. “Just making conversation.” Her fingers brush my shoulder as she walks away.
I don’t breathe again until the meeting ends. That night, I’m packing my bag when Bradleyappears in the doorway of my office.
“Walk with me,” he says. It’s not a question.
The hallway is quiet, late, dimly lit. “You didn’t have to stay,” I say.
“I wanted to.” We stop at the elevator.
“I remembered something today,” he says suddenly.
My pulse spikes. “What?”
“A ring.” My throat closes.
“I don’t know whose,” he continues. “I just… felt it. Like it was supposed to be on someone’s finger, someone important.”
The elevator dings. “I think,” he says, stepping closer, “that person was you.”
The doors slide open. I step inside, turning to face him.
“You’re confused,” I say gently.
“Am I?”
“Yes.” He studies my face, searching, digging.
Then the doors close between us.
As the elevator descends, my knees give out.
Because I know, He’s closer than ever.
And when BradleyJames remembers the truth, everything will burn
- Writer
